4. four

One Month Ago

Rain pours from the sky as the limousine makes its way down the tree-lined road. I sit across from Hector and his amor, firmly wedged between Guillermo and Jorge. Being that this is the first time I've been allowed out of the house in months, I don't expect to take a breath without one of them close enough to feel it.

Alcohol has been flowing freely since last night, and all four of them are grossly inebriated. More men than I could count came by the house to celebrate.

I lucked out, and thankfully, I wasn't part of anyone's celebrations.

"You look uptight, Lucia." Hector extends the bottle of tequila in his hand toward me. "Take a drink."

"No thank you." My words are merely a whisper as I shake my head.

"I wasn't asking." He forcefully shoves the bottle into my hand. "Have a fucking drink."

Taking the bottle from his hand, I bring it to my lips and take a small sip. Lowering the bottle, it's met with resistance. I open my eyes to see Hector pushing it back into the air as his free hand roughly grips my jaw.

My mouth is forced open and my chin is raised as the tequila begins to fill my mouth and burn the back of my throat. "Fucking swallow. We all know how good you are at it."

I gulp down the mouthful of warm liquor as the men beside me laugh, the burn of it radiating down my chest and into my stomach while Hector continues to pour into my mouth. Even as I continue to swallow some of the tequila, the excess spills over my lips and runs down my face.

"Don't you want to celebrate?" He pulls the bottle from my lips, and I allow most of the remaining liquid in my mouth to pour down my chest. Hector uses his rough grip on my face to turn my attention beyond the tinted window.

A cemetery.

"The fucking bastard finally fucking died." His tone is nothing but pure elation. He is finally getting what he wanted—complete control of my father's cartel. "That means I no longer need to keep you as my wife."

The idea of no longer being bound to him is one of the only things I've thought about since the night my father offered me up to him. An offer neither of us wanted. I should be elated that it's finally over, but there is something in the way he spoke the words that leaves me grossly underwhelmed.

Hector squeezes my jaw tighter and roughly shoves me back between Jorge and Guillermo as he takes his seat next to his latest love. "You're finally going to be free of me."

He slips his arm around the blonde beside him and pulls her tight to his body as he continues to stare at me in silence.

"Does this mean," my voice is soft and timid as I hesitate to ask the question we all know is coming, "you're going to let me go?"

A devilish smile spreads across his face as I watch his hand rub tenderly over the thigh of the woman pressed against him. He opens his mouth to speak, letting out a soft chuckle with his words. "You can't honestly think I'd let people believe my wife left me."

"You don't…I can…I'll disappear." My voice repeatedly cracks as the words bubble from me.

"She might not be as dumb as she looks," Hector laughs with the other two men before turning his attention back to me. "You are going to disappear. Guillermo is going to make sure of it the moment we arrive back home."

"Si, jefe." Guillermo roughly squeezes my knee. "No one will ever fucking see her again."

One Week Ago

My hands are bound to the headboard, and my feet are spread and tied to the bed, I can barely open my eyes as he presses himself inside of me while his hands roughly palm at my body. Even with my heavy lids, I know we aren't alone. There are others. Watching. Waiting.

The car begins pulling away from the gravesite. Hector doesn't even grant me a moment to say goodbye—or to spit on his grave. Instead, he continues to discuss my upcoming demise.

Hector doesn't see it—or he doesn't care—but I don't even need to look at Guillermo to know that he is absolutely full of shit. He has no intentions of disposing of me because he hasn't quite tired of me yet.

The closest I'm going to get to disappearing will be the fact that Hector will likely never see me again.

I've handled Guillermo and Jorge for months.

I'm strong.

I can make it a little while longer—until I find a way to get free.

Just a tiny bit longer.

As much as it pains me to think it now, Hector was right. I had no idea how good I had it being his wife—how good he treated me, and how much he protected me.

Drugged to within an inch of my life and bound to this bed, I've become nothing more than a wet hole for Guillermo, Jorge, and more faceless men than I can count.

Sweat drips onto my bare chest from the man inside me. Desperately seeking his release, he's working himself to exhaustion as I lie limp and nearly lifeless beneath him. He grunts his release into me, and the mattress shifts as he climbs from the lumpy bed. It can't be more than a few minutes when my body jostles as another faceless man climbs onto the bed and between my legs.

Sometimes it's minutes.

Sometimes days.

But there is always another one.

Death would have been better.